The Percentage of Adventure
by Galimatias
Summary: Everything in life seems to work by percentages. Fall or land. Win or lose. Death or adventure. And when you're an elite four penguin team living life one moment to the next, statistics are all you have. This may be why, despite the accuracy of charts and numbers and science and leaders, it's easy to forget that family is something statistics rarely predict. Movieverse Oneshots


**So I saw this movie over the break. Did I like it. YES. Did I love it... Well... no. Here's the thing, people. It seems as if Dreamworks has begun to forget how to tell stories. And they forget that sometimes, the best thing a story can have is not a constant rush of color, humor and loud action and noise. Somtimes, a movies best moments are the quiet ones that let you appreciate the emotions that have been laid out for you. And there were SOOOO many opportunities for this movie to have those moments. And they never took them. Which was so sad! **

**Anyway, in order to try my hand at a "quiet moment" I'm going to give you this! I don't quite know what it is! But hey, it's something! And while this is being reviewed, I'm going to be stewing in the corner, trying to update everything else while also trying to figure out if this story deserves (or requires) more oneshots! You, the readers, can tell me that.  
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**Go ahead! Rip it apart! Rarw! **

**And have a great day! ;)**

**THERE HAS BEEN AN UPDATE! I CORRECTED EVERYTHING AND EDITED AND ADDED AND NOW IT IS DONE!**

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"Youre quite lucky you know."

Skipper turned at the sound of the voice, staring at a pair of paws before training his eyes upward. "Classified." He nodded. The gesture was reciprocated.

"Penguin." The wolf moved to stand beside the small flightless bird, stirring his tea and watching nothing in particular happen in front of them. The spoon clinked against the side of the cup and steam created a thin haze stack. "But truly, you are quite lucky."

"You already said that."

"And I'm saying it again." The spoon clinked and he took a sip, wincing for a moment. Skipper had to guess that someone else had brewed the tea that time. Put in too much sugar. Good. The old dog deserved to get a sugar high and crash. On top of a field of dynamite. And lots of painful legos. "You. Are. Lucky."

"Well, since you seem like you want to tease me with all of your namby pamby words, how about you just indulge. Why am I lucky."

"You don't know." He seemed to forgo the idea of a bad beverage and took another sip. "Well… that's quite a shame, isn't it." Skipper growled and turned away. "You Penguins are so stubborn sometimes, aren't you? Never even attempting to think outside of your own element for a moment. You know, even if you are their leader, it wouldn't destroy you to at least appreciate things once in a while."

"A leader's job is not to appreciate," he drew out the word, clicking at the final t. Skipper drew his hands behind his back, looking the other way once more. Private and Kowalski and Rico were still standing out in the crowd. Rico entertained a group of kids by showing them just how much he could regurgitate. Kowalski seemed content enough to simply watch, staying by the youngests side, occasionally giving the top of his head a ruffle. Private, previously on an attention high Private, was beginning to look like he did when he was about to be punished for something- far too uncomfortable with the amount of attention and wondering if he could just sink into himself and disappear. Kowalski had noticed, it would seem, and his presence was appreciated by the boy. But it only did so much. Skipper was sure he'd have to step in soon and rescue them all. "A leader's job is to watch over his own and keep them safe."

"A fine job you did today." Skipper looked ready to snap something back, anger growing thick in his eyes. But it didn't take a mere moment for the shoulders to droop, his gut going from elevated and sinking back into his rounded form. Ashamed, scared, vulnerable. The penguin stepped back an inch and the flippers clasped behind his back began to fiddle. Classified felt a twinge of something and placed his cup onto its saucer. "Apologies. That was… that was uncalled for."

"No. You're correct. I failed my duties and I placed my men in danger. I almost lost one of them-"

"But you didn't." Skipper didn't respond. He watched the boats over the harbor, but his gaze constantly flickered back to the group that stood meters away from them, calculating their every move. "They'll be fine," Classified caught on quickly. "You don't have to worry. They're more than resourceful. Even the little one." Especially the little one. "You know… this in no way means that you are unfit to lead. I hope you recognize that."

It took a moment, a few more glances, and a long suffering sigh. Classified quickly realized that the penguin near his feet was beginning to look older than he ever had. "I don't think you get it, Classified. It means exactly that. I couldn't save my boys. No matter what the outcome, I still let them down." He gestured a wing towards them, still standing in the crowd. "They expect me to lead them. I don't know if I still can."

"You have to."

"Who says."

"I do." He picked up his cup again. "And I'm fairly certain that they will agree." Private had begun to sidle closer to the genius avian, offering shy smiles to a few groups of birds who called out to him. Said genius said something to the crowd, eliciting a few disappointed aww's a very greatful young soldier. He clasped his flipper around the young bird, said something, the two of them waddling over to presumably bet how much Rico could pull out of his metaphorical hat. Classified watched along, not sure if he should have been watching at all. The boats in the water beside them reached a point close enough to slosh waves against the dock, but not close enough to notice a wolf sipping tea and a penguin standing at attention talking about life and nothing much else. Who knows what they'd have to have done to the people who saw that. Fortunately the sun was setting, and whoever had been around before had long since left, leaving behind a pack of penguins, a broken down submarine and a slight smattering of pink dust on a few choice treetops. Classified didn't let himself worry about it for too long, and instead continued to watch the event transpire in front of him. "You are so lucky," he slipped out once more, but whether it was on purpose or by accident he wasn't quite sure.

Skipper didn't seem to care where it had come from, throwing his flippers in the air before returning them behind his person. "There you go again! On about luck and more luck! I am a soldier, Sir, and I rely on more than luck! I rely on gut instinct and tactics!"

"Well, I am a world class agent and I rely on artillery and planning."

Skipper's body drooped for a second time. "Yeah… I noticed. You're good at that thing, you know. The whole… planning… thing. I… ah… I mean I didn't have a chance at that plan-off."

"Don't trouble yourself. No one would." He stalled, looked down. "Then tell me, Penguin. How is it that you rely on so little and yet you still have more than I do?" The words were more for himself than Skipper, muttered and bitter. But Skipper still heard them and was willing to offer an opinion.

"I don't. That's what we were just talking about, Classified."

"No. You do. That's why I was referring to what I was. Luck and all of that sort of thing."

"I recall." Skipper rocked on his heels. Classified rolled his shoulders. He was typically a cold weather mammal, but the sea breeze was still getting to him, and he was beginning to hate the effects of the salt water filling his nose. Not being able to smell was hardly boding well for him, and the crisp breeze only helped to further his irritable state. He shrugged it off again. "You have good men, Classified."

"Hmm?"

"Your men… and woman. They're a good team. Solid. Resourceful. Everything a leader needs." Classified didn't respond. "And of course, you're the leader that they need in return. Secret headquarters, heavy gunning. Lots of... shiny buttons. They listen to you. They count on you… And you've never lost any of them."

"No… I haven't…"

"Well… I have." A sigh. Classified didn't look down. Perhaps it was to see the Penguin keep his dignity. Or maybe it was to keep down the sigh he currently had brewing in his own throat. "Do you see what I'm saying yet? About how I can't do this? My men are following me blindly now. Eventually they're going to figure that out. I want to figure it out before they do. You. You at least-"

"My team doesn't follow me."

Skipper stopped. Paused. Looked up. His brow perked up and his head tilted. "Sorry. Didn't catch that last part. It sounded like you said your team doesn't-"

"My team doesn't follow me." Classified drained the rest of his tea and then looked into it forlornly, wishing he had another cup. Or perhaps something stronger. "How much do you pay your team, Penguin."

"Pay them?" He balked out a laugh. "They get as much fish as we can find, sardine cans and the Spirit of Adventure! And the occasional bag of Cheezy Dibbles."

"Well," the wolf stirred his tea, the silver utensil between his ring finger and thumb hitting the sides of the china with a bit more force than necessary. "I pay my team an exorbitant amount every year. They are given access to classified files as well as any equipment they should choose. They are insured under our policies and are given vacation times as well as escorts if needed. They are given the world on a silver platter once danger has passed over. They are rewarded for being elite agents chosen from a long list of people. And when one of them gets lost we replace them with the second person on that same list and hope for the best. That Penguin is why my team follows me."

"Aw come on. They're soldiers! They do some of it for the thrill."

"There is no thrill in what we do. We protect people. That is all. And once this is over and we return to base we will all go our separate ways as we always do. Eva will be traveling to Maine for a month, Corporal will be going back to Russia until we call him and I hardly know what Short Fuse is planning." There was nothing left in the cup. He stirred the spoon anyway. "What will your team be doing once this is all blown over."

Skipper screwed up his mouth. "Eh… I guess… we'll be going home. Or something like that. We can go anywhere, really. We've been to Venice, Paris. We were in Ireland yesterday. We went to Cuba once, but that is classified, Classified, and we were thinking of-"

"But you do it together?"

"Of course we do it together!" The look he gave the special force leader was nothing short of exasperated, the obvious coming easily. "That's what we do! We're a team. The elitist team! And we always go together! We're, a… you know… a-"

"A family."

"Yeah… A family…" Rico somehow managed to hork up an entire phone booth, and the two others behind him cheered. A random penguin in the crowd scowled and handed his neighbor a few fish, the other one accepting them smugly. Classic. "But, I mean, it's been that way from the beginning. We found each other and then we found Private. And that was it. We promised to take care of one another. That's what we do."

"Hmm," Classified hummed. The sound did not lack its bitterness. "It shows. Those boys would put down their lives for you."

"I know. I would never let them, though. Let's make that clear, Classified. That is not what they're for. That's my job."

"Quite." He decided that the teacup was only helping to further his anger and placed it on the ground. He kept the spoon in his paws, though, trying to bend it with as little effort as possible- give his hands something to do. "They won't ever realize it, you know."

"What's that."

"Being a leader. You and I make it look effortless. But that's the job, isn't it. To do as much as we can without letting on how terrified we are."

Skipper chuckled. "You're telling me." Because he was terrified. Constantly. He watched his crew with a sharper eye after that one, the ghosts of his still beating heart swirling around his chest. He would never forget the look on Kowalski or Rico's faces when they were pushed through the exterminators vacuum tube. Or that moment where he was sure that he had lost Private forever.

"Were you always the leader." The wolf interrupted his thoughts, and for that he was greatful.

"As long as I remember."

The taller of the two nodded sagely. "They respect you."

"Your team respects you, too."

It was Classified's turn to chuckle, though no humor existed behind the sound. "A few yes sir's and no sir's here and there hardly qualifies as respect. It's simply a mark of place." Another chuckle. "Now that I think about it, you might have a harder job than I ever will."

"Oh yeah? Hows that?"

"Because my team doesn't depend or look up to me. I'm simply their leader. You… you're their everything. And I cannot imagine what they would do without you."

"They'd survive. I taught them to survive."

"True. You trained them to survive. You didn't train them how to live. And I am not sure what would have occurred if you had truly lost one of your own." And Skipper almost stopped him there because the ghost of a frantic heartbeat was in the beginnings of a truly rapid rapping once more, anxiety pouring in thick at the mere thought of four becoming three or less. Because while the idea had occurred to him, he'd never once imagined the possibility. He'd always been there to throw one of them out of the way, pull the other out of danger, catch them, teach them and train them to be prepared for anything. He'd never prepared them for loss.

"They'd survive." He said again. But it was a lie. He knew it. And he was certain that Classified knew it too.

"Hmm," the North Wind commanding officer hummed once more, staring back out at the group. Private looked more panicked than ever, and Skipper was sure that if Kowalski hadn't been there he would have been finding a tree to hide in. But Kowalski had always been good at calming the boy down, endless science facts and jagged explanations his specialty. And for whatever reason, though he doubted Private understood, it seemed to work out with the youngest. Rico coughed up a stick of lit dynamite. Kowalski yelled. Rico swallowed that again and pulled out a bouquet of flowers, handing them to a female penguin close by, who seemed more than flattered to receive the strange gift.

"He's a good lad"

"Huh?" Skipper tilted his head. "What?"

"Your Private. He's a decent lad."

Skipper nodded, watched the crowd. "Yeah. And while the phrasing isn't how we Americans say it, I suppose that he is a good… lad."

"Quite." Classified took in a deep breath and the exhale rivaled that of the sea breeze beside them. "Poor boy… he was practically over the moon today when you gave him that praise you know." The mass crowd of penguins was beginning to move towards the ship parts lying over the ground, curious as to what secrets they could hold. Private looked relieved for the distraction. "He craves acceptance. It's his only flaw, really. The fact that he feels the need to stay with your lot besides that fact."

"He is accepted!" The words came out fast, and both parties could hardly miss the panic. Skipper quickly withdrew it, hiding it away. "He's accepted," he said again, doing his best to calm the nerves that had no reason to be frayed. At least, no reason that he was willing to unhinge.

"He wasn't. And you know it." Skipper did know it. He crossed his arms. "His job was simply the cute guy, wasn't it? That was who he was for you. And yet, somehow, he stuck around this long despte all that. And why, might I ask, do you think that is?" Skipper stayed silent, but his brow drooped. Suddenly the ground was the most interesting of subjects. "He's truly a remarkable child. He may not be as brave as the rest of you, but he's got a good heart, and that takes him far, s'long as I'm concerned. He puts others in front of himself." The wolf chuckled again, and some of the bitterness had slipped. "He's not a leader by any means. I don't think he ever could be. But he's selfless."

"I'll have to keep an eye out for that in the future."

"You might have to. There's no telling what he might do."

"I'm not too concerned."

"Oh, you should be." Classified stewed over his own words, picking them carefully through the tension. "I don't know if you realize it yet," slowly, tasting each letter, "but your boy, your little Private, is more valuble than you could ever imagine. And not for leadership or grunt or brains." Another long pause. "I do believe, Skipper, that you are both a destruction and a savior. You may be what held him back. But you are also the only reason why he stayed. You and the others." Skipper rubbed his arm, pretending not to understand. "It's a dangerous power to hold that over someone. Even if you hardly know you possess it."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Yes you do." He did. A beat. "He reminds me of someone else, you know."

"Oh really? Who's that?"

Before he could answer -and it was doubtful that he even would- another voice piped up near them. "Skippah? Sir?" Skipper snapped to attention and another surge of guilt came sputtering back. How could he have let them sneak up on him? He'd forgotten to watch them again. Of course he had. Because today his leadership skills were just so fine tuned.

"Private. What seems to be the issue."

"Well, sir," and the boy seemed to move closer to him, "it seems that the crowd is still trying to get a good look at me, sir. They keep trying to talk to me."

"You did just save all of their lives, Private. You can't expect anything less." The reaction was hardly a surprise, but the chastisement came easily. Private seemed to agree until a few more eyes turned on him and he shuffled closer to Skipper with a low whine, flippers twitching uneasily at his sides as if hoping that if he simply believed he could fly away and hide from all the attention until it simply stopped. Skipper shook his head but did offer a sympathetic smile.

"Really, Private," Classified crossed his arms, "the least you can do is offer them a minute of your time! You must admit that the stunt you pulled today merits a little bit of an explanation and-"

He was cut off by a glare from Skipper that could have cut through brick and Private looking more green in the face than white. "There isn't going to be any speeches," the bird directed towards Classified, moving towards his youngest. "And they don't deserve anything." He grabbed Private, pulling him away and going to stand in front of him, the smallest of the four suddenly looking far safer from behind the solid form of his commanding officer. "Now listen up, Hippies!" Skipper drew in his gut, pronouncing every syllable of his words with the utmost dignity, power practically ebbing off his form. "You'd best waddle on back to your homes before Rico here throws up something that will teach you all how to fly. You get my drift?" They did get the drift, and without much of an argument the group began to adjourn. Classified swore he heard Private breath out a quiet thank you, sir, but couldn't be sure.

"Oh, Sir! Good! You found him. We were looking in the crowd," Kowalski, followed by a panting Rico, slid over, saluting respectively before continuing. "You know… we just… we couldn't be too sure, Sir." He understood that completely. Because after today they were all going to be paranoid.

"Private!" Rico shouted happily before coughing up a bag of Dibbles.

"No," the smallest offered a smile, still content at his Commanders side. "No, but thanks loads, Rico." The bird in question just shrugged before popping the entire package back down his throat.

"Well then, it seems as if you have everyone accounted for." Classified cut into their banter, scooping up his teacup. "I wish you best of luck, Skipper. And trust me, you'll need it." But before he could turn to leave there was one last retort. One he hadn't been expecting in the least.

"He doesn't need luck!" That was Private. And, from the look on Skipper's face, he hadn't been expecting the youngest to speak up either. "He's the best leader ever!" Private turned to the stunned Skipper whose current mission was simply attempting to maintain the straightest of faces. "Don't worry, Sir! You hardly need luck at all! You take care of everything and if you need it you've got us!" A perfect sentiment to a cracked egg and an adventure that was only promised with a 5% chance of survival.

"Of course he knows that, Private," Kowalski slapped the boy fondly in the back of the head. "We stick together."

"Family!" Chortled Rico. "Bruders!"

"But thanks anyway, North Wind Classified Sir!" Private waved. "You did a bang up job as a penguin today!"

"I can only hope, Private." He offered the youngest a salute. "I truly can." And then he walked back to his own team who was waiting for him.

The penguins watched him go, standing in their huddle and waiting for nothing in particular to happen. When the jet was filled with the North Wind and it shot off into the sky they all watched it go. The group would be back for them soon. He knew they would. The wolf still owed them all favors and jetpacks were looking pretty sweet right about now.

But until then he was going to start trying to find a way to pay back Private for everything he'd ever done. He'd get his birthday wish, alright. And it would come in stride until it wasn't a once a year fantasy. Because how any of them hadn't thought of it before was odd. But despite all its flaws their little family was something perfect, and each member was as essential to its survival as the next.

Though, in Skipper's most humble and secret of opinions, without the heart of the group they may have not been able to survive at all.

"Should we find somewhere new to stay, Sir?" Kowalsky asked. "Because by my analysis we each require fuel and rest in order to travel any further."

"Well… what do you think, Kowalski?"

The tallest scrunched his eyes. "You're the leader, sir. It's your jurisdiction." He tilted his head. "We follow where you go."

Skipper wondered a moment. And somehow, after that moment was over, he wondered out loud. "How would you feel if you were like the North Wind instead. I hear they get vacation time apart."

Somehow he wasn't expecting the aghast looks. "Apart!" Rico shuddered. "No…"

"I agree with Rico, sir" Kowalski wrung his flippers.

"Aw come on! You could survive a week without me breathing down your necks!"

"Negative, sir," Kowalski was beginning to look nervous, the thought of being alone kicking in a surge of anxiety with no place. "It's… it's highly improbably that we'd survive."

"Really?"

"I mean… maybe not highly improbable... " the scientist began to tap his feet, every nervous tick he possessed feeling the need to show themselves, "But what would we do! We're thePenguins, Sir!" He spread his long flippers for emphasis. "We're… you know… the penultimate! The elitist of the elite!"

Private butted in, smiling as he always tended to do. "I think what Kowalski means, sir, is that we're a family! We're supposed to stick together! And… and I mean… you're our leader, aren't you? And how would our family work without you in it, Sir! It simply wouldn't!"

"Would...n….t" Rico growled.

"Precisely!" The scientist tapped his beak. Emotions had never come easily to the bird. But they didn't for Skipper or Rico either. So that was easy enough. But for Private? The boy was practically a pool of them. And Skipper was beginning to the see the use.

"Besides, what would a vacation be of any use if we weren't all there!"

And Skipper smiled. Really smiled. For the first time in the last few days. And at the same time he swallowed back the pity of the poor North Wind. Because if everything classified was true, his story was becoming sadder by the moment. And Skipper wondered how the wolf would ever survive without knowing what it feels like to be looked up to, trusted and loved. Or what it felt like to give the same thing back.

He wondered briefly if the wolf would ever know what it was to have a family. Because, by all accounts, it was pretty darn amazing. And despite every one of his annoying comments, Classified was right about one thing. He was quite lucky. He had the greatest family the world had to offer. And even if he thought every day for the rest of his life that he wasn't worth them, it would seem as if they were going to spend every single moment daring to disagree.

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**A quick side note. Apologies for the errors. I didn't have this beta'd nor did I take hours editing. I just needed to write something and finals have prevented me from updating anything. It was either do nothing or not edit. I chose the latter. And I am quite satisfied with the decision.**

**R&amp;R!**


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